


drowning in the ocean of you

by rhllors



Category: Being Human (UK)
Genre: Backstory, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, M/M, Multi, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-22
Updated: 2012-09-22
Packaged: 2017-11-14 20:22:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/519167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhllors/pseuds/rhllors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hal starts to draw squares onto Cutler's skin, because that's what they are, a perfect square. Ivan and Daisy and Cutler and Hal. Give them enough time and they'll fill the streets with blood, but not before catching the local sights first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	drowning in the ocean of you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ellis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellis/gifts).



Hal and Cutler are going out for a drink when they meet them.

(No, not that kind of drink. The alcoholic, non-vampiry type of drink.)

Hal is blandly explaining how he once seduced a Mother Superior and two of her Novices in one night at a Convent just outside of Dublin, whilst sliding his foot up Cutler's leg. They're tucked in the corner and surrounded by a haze of cigarette smoke, a quiet table at the back of one of those bars that are starting to open up now; pretending to be in New York City when it's in fact situated out of the arse end of Clapham.

It's a shithole, but Nick says it has character. Hal mutters something about _Seth having character_ , but that doesn't necessarily make him any less of a twat.

Hal is going to keep on making derogatory comments about Seth, Herrick and that ridiculous lot until a lilting Scottish voice echoes through the bar that is so unexpected that he jolts, kicking Cutler so hard in the shin that he sloshes his pint everywhere. Nick spends a minute trying to wipe the drink off himself and when he looks up, Hal is gone and the door is swinging shut. He probably shouldn't follow, should leave Hal to his super secret business, but hey, Cutler's a lawyer. He's never been good at not sticking his nose in somewhere is doesn't belong.

It's cold outside and he pulls his coat tight against his chest, the wind biting through the layers with unfamiliar ease. Cutler thought that when he was a vampire maybe he wouldn't have to worry about such pedestrian things like temperature, but even vampires need a warm jumper when there's an Siberian wind.

"Daisy, this is Hal. Or Lord Harry. Depends on his mood." says a tall man, with wild eyes and his arm slung around a brunette with a man of curly hair and fingers covered in rings--Daisy. They both look a little feral and Cutler expects Hal to be a little uncomfortable--he's the type of man who mourns the lightest of marks on any of his suits and the couple look like they've been through a hedge backwards. Much to his surprise, though, Hal looks pleased with a jaunty smile and an extended hand.

Nick stays in the shadows.

"Hal, this is my Daisy. My wife too, now." and to his further surprise, Hal lets out something between a whoop and a laugh. He presses his hand against the man's arm and smiles, and it's one of his proper smiles that are only usually reserved for those moments between only Cutler and Hal, when they are perfectly contented. Something like jealously swirls in the pit of his stomach.

"Cutler." Hal turns suddenly, and his eyes find Nick's immediately. His hand extends and ushers him forward. "There's someone you should meet." and Cutler steps back into the light.

 

 

It turns out that Daisy and Cutler get on like a house on fire. And they do set a house on fire, but that's only once.

They're in Argentina, it's 1951. Hal and Ivan stand at a sweaty bar whilst Daisy and Cutler twirl around on the dance-floor in front of them, ignoring all of the bizarre looks they're receiving. Daisy's wearing a skirt that flairs out every time she spins and displays a large chunk of thigh whenever she does so. Hal is half expecting them to be driven out of town by the morning, with their strange ways and odd sleeping patterns--and that's not even counting the bodies they haven't found yet buried in shallow graves round the back of one Favela.

Ivan knocks back a shot of vodka and unbuttons a shirt. "You know, the aristocracy live near here somewhere." he says, pulling a face. He may have died two hundred and fifty years ago but Ivan is a Russian at heart, and he can never stomach bad vodka. There's a chance he'll tear the bartenders throat out for that, later.

Hal raises an eyebrow and sips his mate, eyes drawn to the way that Cutler's hand is spinning Daisy, so fast now that they're nothing but a blur. He can see the way Nick's fingers stroke the skin of her wrist before he lets go and she veers off wildly, laughing like a hyena.

"Don't play dumb, Lord Harry, it's not a good look for you." Ivan is close to a reprimand but doesn't quite make it. Ivan says his title like a joke, an amusing character quirk. One Hal introduced himself to some young thing as _Lord Harry_ and the vampire started to cry.

Hal has that affect on people.

"Hetty. Wyndam. That pretentious twat who keeps the books." Ivan pauses and flicks the wooden counter with his fingers, ring clanging on the bar. "Snow."

Hal considers it. Himself and Ivan are both technically Old Ones now, and they have the right to join the rest. They both could probably bring Daisy and Cutler with them, and live out the rest of eternity in the paradise that his creator ruled. They could kill and fuck without any worry for humanity anymore, nothing but the buzz.

"Yeah. I suppose they are." there is an unspoken comment, _if I wanted to see them, I would have already seen them_. Ivan grins in acknowledgement and knocks down his second dodgy Vodka. The more Ivan drinks of the stuff, the shorter the barman's life becomes. There's a joke in there, somewhere.

Cutler and Daisy aren't spinning anymore, instead they're--

Well. It's closer to writhing and the locals are looking really, really annoyed now. However much all four of them enjoy a fight (and they really do) taking down this many humans would be ridiculous and would attract far too much attention. For God's sake, they were vampires, not savages. Hal slides off his barstool and clicks his tongue, breaking Cutler and Daisy out of their trance.

Daisy sighs. "Hal." she says, her voice like a song as Ivan takes her hand and they make their way outside. "You're always ruining my fun." As soon as the darkness of the street engulfs them, Hal's arms moves from Cutler's arm to his waist, fingers absently dancing across the skin warm from earlier. "Me and Nick were going fuck before we went back to the hotel."

Hal smiles and Ivan takes hold of his hand. The Argentine night is hot, as hot as it is dark, but deserted. "Daisy, darling, you can fuck Nick all you want back at the hotel." and she chuckles in delight at that, pressing a kiss into Ivan's neck. "Only if you promise that Ivan and I can watch, of course." Hal starts to draw squares onto Cutler's skin, because that's what they are, a perfect square. Ivan and Daisy and Cutler and Hal. Give them enough time and they'll fill the streets with blood, but not before catching the local sights first.

"Hal," and now it's Cutler that's grinning, his fingers pressing down hard onto Hal's neck. "I think that was going to happen anyway."

 

 

Cutler wakes up tangled in a mass of sheets. Sandwiched between him and Hal is Daisy, who is covered in blood. Daisy who isn't still, not even in sleep with her arms and legs moving, her fingers twitching, her nose flaring--he wonders whether she is ever still, whether she ever wants to stop the violence.

Nick sincerly doubts it.

Behind him is Ivan--Nick can feel the weight of his body pushing against him, and the blood squelching every time one of them moves--and one of Ivan's arms is spread across them keeping all three of them down in place.

They're in Argentina. It's 1951. Nick Cutler is a happy man indeed.


End file.
